


A Miraculous Night

by LJF



Series: The Dream-Travelers [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Hugs, I can't believe I finally wrote this, I'mma cry right now, My First AO3 Post, OC, Please Don't Kill Me, Wish Fulfillment, dream - Freeform, literally this s what I do in real life so why not make it a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJF/pseuds/LJF
Summary: A mysterious girl haunts the dreams of Parisian residents.





	1. "You Have Two Choices, Adrien"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [October Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=October+Baby).



> This is the first fanfic I'm posting out to the world, so it's not perfect.  
> This is based on an idea that I've been ruminating over for a while.  
> Thanks, October, for loving this from the first, and encouraging me to flesh it out into a real story.

_“Everything in order?”_

_“Yes, sir!”_

_“Good. As you know, this is a very high-risk assignment. If you say too much, you could be found out, and that would be the end of us all.”_

_“I know, sir. I will be extremely careful.” He knows she will-- she’s one of the best agents they have. Unfortunately, that means that she often ends up volunteering for the most dangerous assignments-- the ones everyone else is too nervous to touch. But someone has to do this, and he trusts that she will succeed._

_“Good. You’re going to the girl, correct?” She shakes her head._

_“No, sir. The boy is my main priority.”_

_“_ _The boy? True, his risk factor is lower, but the odds of actually succeeding--”_

_“Are much lower, I know. But I don’t have a choice.” Her face is set, determined. “The girl’s risk factor is far too high-- one slip of the tongue, and we’re done. Not too mention, our studies show that the boy is much more likely to be receptive to the cause.”_

_“If you’re certain-- I trust your judgement.”_

 

It’s very sunny. She is a little surprised-- from everything she knows about him, she’d pictured a stifling prison he’d be desperate to escape from. But she supposes he isn’t the wallowing type.

She looks around, trying to locate him. She’s in a flower-covered meadow. Strange-- he probably would have preferred space to run and jump in. But then she sees the ladybugs everywhere and understands. Poor boy.

She wanders around the dream-scape, and finds him sitting at the edge of the meadow, stroking a black cat on his lap and having some sort of conversation with the nearest ladybug. He doesn’t notice her.

“Adrien Agreste,” she says, sitting down in front of him, “Pleasure to finally meet you.” His face appears slightly confused. He asks if they know each other in the real world. Is she just a figment of his imagination?

“No, we haven’t met, but I am _very_ real. I suppose you could think of me as….a visitor from another plane of existence,” she explained, “I’ve been watching over you-- and many of the other people in your city-- for a long time.” The boy doesn’t quite understand, so she does her best to explain without revealing too much about her mission.

"No, I can't tell you many of the things you would love to know and I would love to tell you, such as the location of Hawkmoth or the identity of Ladybug"

"No, I don't know _everything_ about you. Among other things, I don't know the details of your mom's disappearance-- no, don't tell me, I'll learn someday."

"Why can't I tell you? The powers that be who are in charge of this world don't know I'm here, and you knowing too much would set them off and I could get in HUGE trouble."

"Why did I risk it if I can't even tell you anything? Well, nobody will notice if I give you a little bit of advice."

"What sort of advice could I possibly have for you? I came here to give you a warning."

"I need to warn you about a misunderstanding you're making. A fundamental difference between you and Ladybug- a difference that is probably the main reason Ladybug doesn't return your feelings."

"What? Yes, I know she's in love with someone else. Yes, I know who it is. No, I can't tell you. But that's only a small part of it."

"See, you-- Adrien, that is-- always have to be perfect. Perfect student, perfect son. Mandarin, piano, fencing, modeling-- it's a lot to deal with, and you always need to be at the top.”

“But that's not what _you_ want. That's what you _have_ to do. that's the carefully crafted illusion you work so hard to maintain."

"How do I know all this? No, I'm not a mindreader. (Not usually, at any rate.) I'm just very observant.”

"Anyways, as I was saying, that's _Adrien_. Cat Noir is an entirely different story."

"As Cat Noir, you can do whatever you want, without worrying about your father or anyone else. You can be, well, you."

"But Ladybug is different."

"Ladybug, in her normal life, is just an ordinary girl. She has a great life, and wonderful friends and family."

"She views being Ladybug as a responsibility- one she takes very seriously. It's a job- a fun job, but still a job. You don't see _her_ transforming willy-nilly and prowling Paris at all hours the way you do."

"Ladybug is an image she portrays in order to best do that job. It is no more her true self than that "perfect son" act is yours."

"So, even if she did return your feelings it would hurt her to know that the one you love is _Ladybug_ , not _her_. Think of how you would feel if someone you really cared about-- _especially_ Ladybug-- preferred "Adrien" to Cat Noir."

"It'd break your heart, wouldn't it?"

"It's the same for Ladybug. By placing her on this pedestal of love and adoration you've built and ignoring all others, you've cut off all possibilities of ever loving the _real_ her. The one who isn't always perfect or powerful. The one who tries, but doesn't always succeed-- the one who picks herself up off the ground and tries again, no matter how hard it gets."

"That's part of the reason why Ladybug has never even thought of returning your feelings- it would kill her, constantly lying to you, and having to be someone she's not in front of the one she loves. It's not a conscious decision on her part, but an instinctual action of self-preservation."

"No, I can't read her mind either. Like I said, I'm just incredibly observant- I really admire both of you."

"No, I'm not a stalker! (Okay, well, maybe a little- not the point.)"

"As I was _saying_ , if you continue the path that you've chosen, all you'll do is hurt yourself-- and possibly even her."

"You have two choices, Adrien."

"Option one- Love Ladybug. Love her so much you feel like you're heart might burst. Cherish every moment you spend by her side, admire her every move, and spend your nights dreaming about her." She brushes off the ladybug that just landed on her-- there are ladybugs _everywhere_ here. "Love her and love her and love her. But if you do that, you will never be able to truly _love her_ for who she is. And if she ever finds it in her to love _you_ , it will break her heart."

"Option two- Forget her. You'll stay by her side and fight with her-- trust her-- _respect_ her-- but only as your partner and friend.”

“Move on. Fall in love with someone else. Someone who you can trust and respect just as much as you do _her_ , but someone who's being true to _themselves_ at the same time."

"Yes, I know it's not as easy as I'm making it sound. But it's the only way."

"If you're really lucky, you might even fall for the girl _behind_ the mask-- the girl who isn't some perfect, untouchable angel high above you, but a flawed human being _just like you_ \-- although that might take more than just a lucky charm."

"But even if it _isn't_ her, it'll be someone real- someone who can love you back. Someone who trusts, respects and _cares_ for you in a way that _Ladybug_ , at least the way she is now, never could."

"It's your decision, Agreste."

"I've got to go-- When you wake up, you won't remember me, or this conversation. But hopefully some of this will stay with you- enough that you'll know-- without knowing _how_ you know-- that something's got to give." She reaches over to scratch the cat behind the ears. Then she stands up, shoos away all the ladybugs flying around her, and turns and begins to walk away.

She stops, turns back for just a moment and waves. “Good-bye kitty, and good luck.

She’s gone before he has time to wonder if that last comment was directed at him, or the cat.

 

That isn’t her only stop that night. She ducks into the dream of the small black kwami by Adrien’s bedside next.

She nearly gags at the smell. So. Much. Smelly. Cheese. And not all Camembert, either. There’s Brie, and Gouda, and Parmesan, and dozens of others that she can’t even name.

She reaches into her bag to pull out an impossibly large wheel of Camembert, sighing as she does so. He’ll never find it in this mess. Typical. She pulls a single peacock feather out of her pocket and attaches it to her gift. _That_ should do it-- although Plagg _has_ been known to miss peacock feathers dangling _right in front of his face_. She leaves before he can make his way over to her-- she would love to stay and chat, but she knows that she’d end up spending too much time here, and she has other things she needs to get done tonight.

  
Next she heads across town and creeps into the dream of the ancient Asian man who has protected the world for over a century. It’s dark in here, and so, so loud.

“YOU! YOU! YOU!” She follows the noise and finds an old man in a Hawaiian shirt standing in the center of the blood-red room. All around him are kwami, resentfully yelling at him, with the turtle loudest of all.

Behind the kwami are giant hands, angrily pointing at him-- taunting, _blaming_ him.

She claps her hands once, loudly, and the kwami and hands vanish. The old man crumples to the ground, and she runs over to help him up.

He seems to want to speak, but can’t figure out how. She looks him in the eye.

“This is _not_ your fault. You were just a kid, and you thought you were making the right decision. You _couldn’t_ have known what would happen to them.” He opens his mouth to interrupt, but she puts her finger to his lips.

“ _No_. You didn’t do _this_ , either. He made the choice to corrupt the Miraculous and make Paris what it is today. You _can’t_ keep blaming yourself.” He starts to cry, and she gives him a quick hug before fading away.

  
She makes a quick stop into the dream of the pigtailed girl. Pictures of the blond boy are _everywhere_. She sighs. The girl is staring at a poster on the wall, a plush doll designed to look like the boy dangling from her hand. It isn’t too hard to pull the doll out of her hand and replace it with a stuffed black cat. She thinks for a moment before stealthily stuffing the doll into her own bag and quickly spiriting away. The black-haired girl never even noticed she was there.

  
Her next stop is the red-and-black kwami’s dream. It’s a cheerful, cozy place, and she would love to stop and take a nap, but she knows she’s on a time crunch. She quickly locates the kwami sitting peacefully by a fireplace and hugs her. (She’s always the same size as whoever she visits.)

“Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on us. You been around for so long, and you’ve seen the worst of us-- yet you’re still here, loving and protecting us.” The kwami giggles.

  
Then she waltzes into the dream of the tanned girl with the _gorgeous_ ombre hair. The dream-scape is bright and cheerful, with lots of orange and white. The dark-skinned girl is lounging in a beanbag chair busily typing on her laptop.

“Hey, Alya!” The girl doesn’t even look up.

“Hel- _lo_?” The girl pops up, video camera in hand. Someone new to interview!

“So, what’s it like, being a hero?” The girl blanches.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But you know, being a hero is a _lot_ of responsibility. Are you sure you can handle it?” Once she’s given the girl a run-down of what being a hero really means, they settle down in the beanbag chairs for a quick chat to compare different _observation_ (coughcough _stalking_ coughcough) methods.

  
She’s running low on time, so she only spends a few minutes with the boy in the red cap and headphones. She praises him for being an awesome friend and boyfriend, and they compare music choices.

  
She spends several minutes deliberating, but finally quietly tiptoes into the blond girl’s dream. It doesn’t take long to locate the little girl quietly crying in the corner, and she wraps the tiny child in a hug.

 

 

She sighs as she steps into the final dream. She’s done everything she came here to do-- except one, and this one will probably take the longest. But it’s probably the most important visit she’ll make tonight.

 

 

_“WHO?!?” He’s just said that he trusts her judgement, but this is a bit much._

_“Somebody has to do it!”_

_“It’s too dangerous! Do you really think you can possibly make a difference?” She’s insane! “_

_I have to at least try.”_

  
  
**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. "You Can’t Keep Him Out Forever!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last stop for our dream-traveler...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different from the first one...

_ “Are you  _ sure _ you know what you’re doing?” He’s given up convincing her that this is a bad idea-- she’s far too determined. _

_ “He’s acting like an idiot,” she says, “A cold, hard, shell of a man, locking everyone out. He  _ needs _ this.” _

_ “Alright,” he sighs, “But just remember that things aren’t always as obvious as they seem-- especially when it comes to dreams.” _

  
  


It’s cold. She shivers, groping in the darkness to find the jacket buried in her bag. But the jacket does little to protect her from the frozen wastes of the dream-scape.

She decides to head towards the tiny trace of light coming from somewhere in the distance-- It’s probably where  _ he _ is, locking out the outside world both literally and physically. As she starts her hike, she hears a cry from somewhere nearby. She runs over and helps the child up. It’s too dark to see his face, but she knows exactly who it is.

“Hello, again! Fancy meeting you here.” The little boy doesn’t recognize her, of course, even though she was just in  _ his _ dream. After all, this isn’t  _ really _ him-- it’s the dreamer’s imagined representation of him-- a small, scared, sheltered child.

“I’m going that way-- do you want to come with me?” The little boy nods vigorously. It’s no surprise he’s heading that way. He wants to see his father too.

She smiles and grabs his hand, and the two head up this hill, scrabbling in the darkness. She can feel his hand shivering in her own, and she stops to pull out her blanket and wrap it around his fragile shoulders.

“Do you know who we’re going to see?” Another nod.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“ _ Never _ ? Really?” What kind of father has  _ never _ let his son in?

She knows, of course, that the boy isn’t real, just a figment of the dreamer’s imagination, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling angry for his sake-- after all, this  _ is _ what the dreamer has been doing in real life.

She starts talking to the boy, telling him everything she was planning on telling the dreamer once they found him. The dreamer will hear her even if she says it out loud in the wasteland, but her best chance of making a lasting impression is if the dreamer can talk back.

“A father should know better,” she says, “Just because he misses her, doesn’t give him the right to ignore what family he has left. That  _ definitely _ won’t make her happy”

“And even if he can get her back, does he really think that she’ll be happy about this? About what he’s done in the name of saving her?”

“Does he even  _ know _ that the universe requires a balance, that his wish will have a price? Just  _ what _ is he  _ thinking _ ?”

“And why doesn’t he just  _ tell _ them why he’s doing this, rather than constantly trying to steal from them?” She knows that she’s yelling, ranting,  _ venting _ , but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s just so  _ angry _ .

“But most importantly, why does he keep shutting his son out? Why won’t he let him in? You’re both suffering, so why can’t he see that?”

“His son is  _ alone _ . There is no one who can understand what that boy is going through except  _ him _ , so why can’t he comfort him?”

“That  _ idiot _ !”

She almost walks into the wall, that’s how little attention she was paying to anything but her own anger. It’s only because the boy pulls her back that she doesn’t get seriously injured.

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“You’re right, I  _ should  _ pay more attention to what’s going on around me.”

They’re standing in front of a massive stone fortress. It’s too dark to properly grasp the scale, but she can see a tiny bit of light shining in one of the higher windows-- the source of the light she and the boy have been following.

“Where is the door?”

“You don’t know? Haven’t you tried to get in before?”

“But you could never find the door? Really?” Blast that man for being so determined to lock his own son out!

She walks around the building with her hand on the wall, trying to find a door. It’s surprisingly easy to find.

“Open it.” But the boy shakes his head vehemently.

“It  _ might _ open. You said you’ve never tried it before, right?”

“What’s the harm? Is the door going to eat you or something?”

“You’re scared it won’t open? That’s all? But if it doesn’t open, we won’t be any worse off, right?” But the boy won’t budge.

She sighs and tries to open the door. But no about of pushing, pulling, prodding, or banging will get that door to open.

“Gabriel Agreste, you open this door! You can’t keep him out forever!” The boy’s hand stiffens in hers. Does the very  _ name _ scare him?

The door still won’t open.

“He’s waiting for you! Please, don’t do this anymore! He needs you!” She’s sobbing-- strange, she can’t remember the last time she actually cried. But the thought of the poor boy, left out in the dark and the cold, while his suffering father withers alone, breaks her heart.

So she crumples to the ground and cries. And cries. And cries. Eventually, she feels the boy’s hand patting her shoulder, almost mechanically. He’s trying to be comforting, but he doesn’t know how. His hand on her shoulder feels cold and stiff, and she feels another tear forming.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, wrapping him up in a tight hug, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that you have to go through this all alone. I’m sorry you don’t know how to reach him. I’m sorry I don’t know how to fix this.” He’s so stiff-- like no one has ever hugged him before and he doesn’t know what to do.

But slowly, slowly, he sinks into her embrace, and as he does, she hears the door opening behind her. The hinges creak, and she feels as though she’s being bathed in light.

_ No. No! _ She’s about to fade away-- which means that the dreamer is about to wake up.  _ Not now! Not when he’s finally reached a breakthrough! _ She releases the boy, who starts walking through the door.

Turning around, she faces the figure standing on the other side of the door. Through her tears, she can make out a face with startling  _ green _ eyes.

_ What?! _

The boy turns to face her one last time before stepping through the door-- did he just get  _ taller? _ \-- and she realizes that  _ he’s _ the one with the blue-gray eyes.

And suddenly she understands a lot more about the dreamer.

She stands up and waves good-bye.

“Good luck,” she whispers, but it’s lost in the cold wind around her.

And then it all disappears.

 

_ “You did good.” _

_ “Thank you, sir.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. _

_ “Are you okay?” He’s known her a long time,  but he’s  _ never _ seen her like  _ this _. _

_ “I’ll be fine, sir,” she says,  “I just realized that people aren’t always what they appear to be.” _

_ And if he didn’t know better, he’d swear he sees a tear in the corner of her eye. _

  
  


**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was supposed to be just ~~yelling~~ _lecturing_ Gabriel, but then I had a different idea, and decided to try it out. (Sorry it turned out so short!)  
>  Thanks to whoever created [this](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I_MaKoGc3Dg/W2svCiZ78lI/AAAAAAAAImY/rSTDM34cV8IYDh_wz2sRgNC3gFcp2v3EACK8BGAs/s512/2018-08-08.png) fanart, for pushing me to the brink when I was already about to cry along with our lovely dream-traveler. No, I didn't cry, but I came awful close.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, give me your honest opinion.  
> (Peacock mention is a reference to [this](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PCPLmzXfElo/WzqPgpjZvwI/AAAAAAAAYUs/_bkK6z0F6oocrfLbytFX-spaSDBiunq8wCK8BGAs/s512/2018-07-02.jpg) scene from "Volpina".)


End file.
